An Unfortunate Mishap
by Jazzola
Summary: When Fred tries his hand at mending the Mystery Machine for the very first time, will things go according to plan, as they so rarely seem to do with him? And will it turn into something more? Fraphne.


A/N: Thanks to Cutecollie for the inspiration for this story- I mentioned in "The Important Things" that Fred got covered in brake fluid working on the Mystery Machine one time, and so here's the story of that happening! Please review but the main thing is, enjoy!

It was a sunny afternoon outside number 127 Tuna Lane, Coolsville, and a blond-haired teenage boy and a red-haired teenage girl were standing next to a bright blue and green Flower Power Chevrolet van with orange flowers adorning the sides and liberally covered in mud from the teens using it in the countryside recently. In fact, the reason the van and the people were there was that latest escapade; going over a bump in the pothole-ravaged country roads had ruined more than one bit of the suspension but also the brakes.

Fred Jones, the proud owner of the van (but not its painter; that was a certain green-T-shirted beatnik he knew), was lugging a huge toolbox that looked as though it had been bought by some kind of heavy machinery firm out of the garage next to the grimy van, helped by the fact that it had wheels but not helped by the fact that it contained several kilos worth of equipment. Daphne Blake, the bystander and helper, smirked at him as he dumped it beside the rear doors of the van and leaned on the cool metal, panting slightly and flexing his cramping finger muscles.

"Heavier than you thought it was going to be, Freddy?"

"Just pass me the spanner," Fred replied in a resigned voice, lying down on his stomach and making his way forwards under the van. Daphne giggled and tried to open the toolbox.

Being a fifteen-year-old girl, Daphne had pride, and her pride would be dented by things such as pushing on a door when it said pull, tripping over her own feet, or getting mud on her skirt or trousers. So her pride screamed for her not to call Fred when she found that the mechanism on the toolbox was beating her. Humming to give Fred the illusion that she was fine, she started fiddling with the toolbox out of his sight and trying desperately to open it.

"Daph? Spanner?"

"Just a second…" Daphne called back, beginning to panic. She was no closer to working the mechanism out than she had been thirty seconds ago and she could tell that Fred was wondering why she couldn't pass him the spanner like he'd asked; she had agreed to help him, after all, although secretly she had been hoping for a flash of his six-pack while he was doing it and was disappointed that he was under the van instead of maybe at the side of it. She would never admit that, though.

"Um… Erm… How do you open this stupid thing?" she hissed to herself under her breath as she carried on tweaking and pushing, flicking and sliding. She heard something slide under the van and Fred appeared, brushing his hair out of his eyes with an amused expression on his face.

"You're having trouble with the toolbox?"

Daphne cursed herself for being so stupid, her pride beginning to panic.

"No, I was- was just- erm- um- looking round!" she finished, cringing on the outside as well as the inside at the lame excuse. He folded his arms and just about managed to stop himself from bursting out laughing, although he couldn't keep a chuckle in.

"You do this."

He reached over and pressed a button on the side of the toolbox. Daphne felt her cheeks go bright red as the toolbox's mechanism clicked and Fred simply pulled the side away to reveal the contents, picking out the spanner himself.

"Now you know."

He turned away, pretending not to notice Daphne's crimson cheeks in order to preserve a couple of scraps of her dignity. Daphne gave him a thankful smile and he smiled back as he slid under the van and towards the centre of the vehicle, where the problem with the brakes was.

For the next ten minutes, the two stood in near silence, Daphne not wanting to talk and then be blamed for Fred getting something wrong and Fred both trying to concentrate and think desperately of some kind of topic for when he re-surfaced that he wouldn't sound like an idiot talking about. Looking like an idiot in front of Daphne was one of Fred's greatest fears, but he had no idea that it was reciprocal.

The brakes were pretty badly out of shape, bent and leaking fluid, and while Daphne sat and passed various items of equipment and tried to entertain herself in the long and slightly awkward but not really painful silences between the pair and Fred mended and clanged and tried his hardest not to get fluid or oil on his white T-shirt (he had an ugly mental image of how his mother would react to _that_) they were both thinking of the event that had just happened; Daphne's inability to open the toolbox. Daphne was a little indignant, thinking of how the mechanism had been on the top and the button on the side and how was she supposed to work that out? Fred had already decided not to tease her about it too much, but she was thinking he might and was already thinking of excuses and comebacks and banter that she could use to distract him from her embarrassment.

Neither of them guessed what was about to happen.

There was a clatter, a gush, a splash and a gurgling yelp from under the van, and Daphne sprang up, her hand over her mouth and imagining horrors, just as Fred crawled out from under the van, leaving his dignity under there.

Fred was covered from head to toe in glutinous, murky brake fluid, seeping into his hair and sticking it together in lumps, darkening its bright blond to a darker sort of grubby blond. His T-shirt that he had endeavoured to keep clean was sticking to his body and showing his outline (Daphne would have liked that had she not been in mild shock at the time), and his trousers were sodden and chunky on his legs, the spare fabric making clumps on his calves and looking like clown trousers. His arms were doused in it, soaking into his skin and bringing the fine hairs on his skin into sharp contrast suddenly, and he paused to wipe it away from his eyes before taking in the sight of Daphne first standing in front of him staring with wide and shocked eyes and an open mouth and then suddenly falling about laughing.

"Freddy, you… oh…"

Fred sighed and had no choice but to stand, dripping and coated in fluid, while Daphne laughed and screeched and gasped and eventually dried her eyes and went inside to get him a towel, at his request.

"Thank you," Fred said acidly as Daphne handed him the towel, but Daphne was too busy laughing to notice.

After a couple of minutes and a lot of blushing from Fred, his T-shirt and trousers were whirling in the washing machine and he was sitting at the kitchen table wrapped in a towel as Daphne shampooed his hair in the sink, trying to get the brake fluid out of it and making every effort not to hurt him too much. Some lumps had dried, and these she had had to cut out very carefully, taking care to cut them out completely but not make him look lop-sided; he would need a barber's appointment after this even so. He was checking the small pile of cut-off lumps on the table every so often and wincing.

"I was trying to grow it out," he complained, reaching out and picking one extra-long bit up. Daphne paused in cutting a lock off.

"You'll be fine, it's not like your hair takes years to grow."

Mrs Jones was always complaining that Fred's hair grew like he did- too quick for anyone to keep up with it.

Fred gave a little moan as he felt her snipping away at a lock on his crown, feeling it come away and then seeing the blond hairs still stuck together with brake fluid being placed on the pile.

"Stop being so vain," Daphne told him, and he pretended to choke on laughter.

"Look who's talking!"

Daphne held out a lock of hair that wasn't coated in fluid and threatened to chop it off for his comment, and Fred tried to grab the scissors from her to prevent losing half his fringe.

"Don't you say things like that when I'm cutting your hair, Freddy Jones," she told him, grinning as he put the scissors on the table and stood up, pulling the towel round himself self-consciously. He checked in the mirror and sighed, although to Daphne he looked exactly the same and she doubted anyone would notice unless they saw the little stub of the large lock on his crown that was mysteriously absent.

"You look normal, stop fussing," she told him, smiling as she tugged on the towel and exposed his arm for a moment, triggering a yelp of protest from him. He rolled his eyes at her and bounded up the stairs, going to get more decent in his room.

After half an hour, Fred had successfully mended the Mystery Machine on his second attempt and the pair were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and Fred eating some biscuits. Daphne said she didn't want any but she knew she would cave in after a while and so had warned him not to get the whole packet out. Grinning, and knowing what she was like when faced with biscuits on a diet, he had got it out anyway specially to torture her.

"You want a cookie?" he teased, smirking as she hit him on the arm.

"Shut up, Frederick Herman Jones!"

He winced, hating his name, and it was Daphne's turn to smirk. He had only admitted his middle name when Shaggy had found his birth certificate hidden under his bed on a sleepover and even then Shaggy had had to practically shake it under his nose to get him to admit it.

Daphne played self-consciously with a lock of hair and Fred gave her a smile that was almost shy as she did so, watching her winding it round her finger. She smiled back at him and brushed a biscuit crumb off his chin, smiling as she did so.

"Question, Freddy."

"Much better with the name this time. What's the question?"

She laughed and carried on.

"What does it feel like being covered in brake fluid?"

Fred glared at her, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was a dead giveaway.

"Sticky…"

Daphne burst out laughing and after a second he joined in.

"Question, Daphne."  
Her smile faded.

"What?"

"What does it feel like not being able to open a toolbox when all you have to do is press a button?" he teased, parodying her own question. She swiped him, but her expression gave her away as well.

"Embarrassing…"

It was Fred's turn to laugh. Daphne didn't join in; her cheeks were glowing as she gave an embarrassed smile.

"OK, OK, one all," she murmured, and Fred put his arm round her, smiling at her, a shy smile but a happy one. Daphne's body tensed and her heart thumped but she loved the feel of his strong arm round her slender shoulders. She pushed her chair a little closer to him so he didn't have to stretch so far and they sat in silence until Daphne daringly leaned her head against his shoulder, hoping he would let her. He smiled out of her sight, his own heart drumming like a woodpecker on a tree trunk, letting himself relax and eventually resting his chin on her head. She smiled as well as he did so, and it took them a few minutes to summon the motivation to move.

"See you tomorrow?" Fred asked as he opened the door for Daphne, and she nodded, smiling, and summoned her courage, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. He looked spellbound, amazed and slightly shocked, but gathered his wits in time to look back at her and give a huge smile.

"Um… I guess I have to kiss you now?"

Daphne giggled at him, and put on her sassy face.

"On the lips, like a gentleman, if you please, Jones."

He nodded and leaned down, and his lips brushed hers as she put her arms round him, pulling him closer, wanting him to kiss her properly. He felt the pressure in her arms increase, and would have smiled if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. He kissed her again, longer this time, and pressing his mouth against hers rather than just a light touch. Daphne could feel her heart fluttering, and Fred's wasn't much more stable…

"Freddy? What are you doing?"

The two broke away abruptly, staring round. Mrs Jones stood in front of them, her approach unnoticed by the two and her eyes as round as dinner plates.

"Um… Do you want us to move, Mom?" Fred asked sheepishly, pulling Daphne to the side. Mrs Jones kept her eyes on her son, and when she had taken her coat off inside she told him, "I'll give you five minutes, Freddy."

Fred nodded, turning back to Daphne as soon as she was inside.

"Uh oh…"

Daphne giggled and tweaked his nose playfully.

"It doesn't matter, she would have known sooner or later. Anyway, there are more important things to discuss. Do we or do we not tell the others about you getting covered in brake fluid? I'll call it an unfortunate mishap, save you a little embarrassment."

"You tell them and I'll tell them about you and the toolbox," Fred threatened gently, and Daphne smiled and put her arms round him one more time.

"OK then. We'll keep this between us… unless they find out another way."

Fred narrowed his eyes at her, but he had his secret weapon and she had his and nothing was going to change that.

"Deal. Bye."

"Bye," Daphne replied, giving him another quick kiss and feeling the fireworks in her stomach fly again for a second. He smiled at her and went back into the house, his head held high and his own stomach feeling a little dizzy.

"FRED JONES! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR CLOTHES?"

"Oh brother…" Fred moaned, looking up and seeing his irate mother standing in the doorway, hands on hips and with a face like thunder.

"Um… I can explain, Mom…"


End file.
